


Love Not Given Lightly

by the_deep_magic



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: BDSM, Established Relationship, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-30
Updated: 2009-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-17 17:10:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_deep_magic/pseuds/the_deep_magic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be a milk run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Not Given Lightly

It was supposed to be a milk run. Yet another boring diplomatic mission full of bowing and politeness and pasted-on smiles. And that’s how the first twelve hours had gone. But someone – and Jim was determined to find out who so he knew whom to kill – hadn’t done their homework, or just plain forgot to mention that Gliese’s fragile government was on the brink of a civil war. Either the rebel factions didn’t recognize Jim and the young lieutenant (who really just wanted a day or two off the ship) or they were simply after blood, but either way, the lieutenant would never make it back to the Enterprise.

Kirk couldn’t even retrieve the girl’s body without putting himself in danger, not that he didn’t try. He had literally been surrounded on all sides before Scotty got a lock on him and beamed him back to the ship. Bones had had to physically restrain him from trying to return to the planet, only letting him go after Sulu had gotten them safely out of range.

As he stormed back onto the bridge, one look at the crew’s faces told him that they’d already heard.

Lieutenant Uhura looked utterly composed, but her voice came out shaky. “Sir, the rebels must have been blocking their transmissions, because we— I wasn’t aware of any—“

“Understood. Find out who prepared the cultural briefing for this mission and tell him to write his will.”

Her face registered barely-contained fear, but she nodded. In fact, the face of everyone on the bridge showed varying levels of terror. Good. Jim felt like being scary. He stormed off again before he decided to punch someone or something important.

&&&

Hours later, after the right people had been notified and the bullshit protocol had been followed, Jim was still seething. The idea that death was yet another opportunity for _paperwork_ scraped against his already frayed nerves. Bones had held Kirk still just long enough to ensure that nothing important had been knocked loose and order the captain off-duty. The doctor had offered him a sedative; Kirk told Bones he’d take the pill later and it had been a lie everyone seemed comfortable with.

Jim had already opened the door to his quarters when he realized Spock had followed him. The bastard was obviously some kind of space ninja. Jim hoped vaguely that the Vulcan would remain outside, staring blankly at the door until he realized he was not welcome.

Fat chance.

Spock swept into Jim’s room like he had done so hundreds of times before – which, in truth, was more like dozens of times, and usually at ship’s night, and usually when Jim was expecting him.

Spock just stood by the closed door, eyes focused intently on his captain. Finally, Jim could take no more.

“ _What_? What do you want?!” he snapped.

“Sir, I am aware of the events that transpired on Gliese.”

“And?”

“And you must be aware that the death of Lieutenant Meli was not your fault. With the information we had received, you could not have foreseen—“

“It’s my job to foresee shit like this.” Jim ran his hands through his short hair and clenched his fists behind his head. “Fuck, if I’d paid better attention at the briefing, if I’d worked out some kind of emergency exit strategy. All this diplomacy shit is making me stupid.”

“Sir, you must be aware that your diplomatic work is of the greatest importance—“

Jim slammed his fist into the wall. “She’s _dead_.”

Spock remained infuriatingly calm, looked emotionless to the core. “And you cannot accept the blame for her death, Captain.”

“Fuck off, _Mister_ Spock,” Jim all but shouted, attempting to shove the Vulcan by the shoulders.

Spock caught Jim’s wrist, whirled him around, and had him pressed face-first against the door, wrists pinioned behind his back. When Jim tried to push back, Spock put a strong hand on the back of Jim’s neck, forcing his cheek to rest against the smooth surface. This time, Jim’s resistance was largely for show, since he had essentially no leverage at all.

“Let go of me, you cold-blooded bastard.”

“No.”

“I order you to let me _go_!”

Spock’s hand tightened on the back of Jim’s neck, but not painfully. No one but Jim would have been able to hear the dark undertone in his first officer’s voice. “I will not harm you, Jim. Do you understand?”

Jim gasped for breath before he was even aware he needed to gasp. His heart was thumping furiously against his ribs, and to his shame, he felt blood pooling hot and low in his groin. He couldn’t even think to answer the question.

“Until you respond verbally, I will not proceed,” Spock said, quite possibly a hint softer than before. He let go of Jim’s wrists, but kept the hand on the nape of Jim’s neck, holding firmly but not pushing. He stepped forward slightly, just enough to bring the full length of his body flush with Jim’s. Jim’s eyes slammed shut at the recognition of Spock’s body, hot and aroused, against his own.

Spock’s question was slower this time, more deliberate. “Do you understand?”

Jim understood. “Yeah. Yeah, I get it.”

With that, the Vulcan moved away. Jim stepped back from the door, aware that all he had to do was press a button and walk out the door and spent the rest of the night killing his brain cells with McCoy’s “secret” stash of bourbon. Instead, he stood still. But he didn’t turn around – didn’t trust himself to face Spock at the moment.

Spock’s voice was back to normal – well, a Vulcan approximation of normal – when he calmly said, “Remove your clothes and kneel on the bed.”

Seconds ticked by. Jim opened his mouth to make a wisecrack, but the words died on his tongue. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Moving would mean making a decision, choosing one path and destroying another. He was done with that for today.

“I will not say it again.”

It was the tiniest, nearly inaudible waver in Spock’s voice that made Jim reach for the hem of his shirt. Face blazing with humiliation, he flung his clothes into a heap on the floor, hoping this small bit of disorder would piss Spock off. Jim purposefully kept his eyes down as he knelt on the edge of the mattress.

Spock had apparently taken this time to disrobe as well, folding his uniform neatly and setting it on the table. Seeing the neat stack and Spock’s boots lined up together on the floor was enough to make Jim’s fists clench. The Vulcan slowly walked forward to stand, naked and undeniably aroused. Jim kept his eye firmly glued to the other man’s cock, flushed an unmistakable shade of green that Jim could still see when he closed his eyes.

“Look at me,” Spock said quietly.

Instead, Jim reached for Spock’s burgeoning erection, intent on shutting him up for awhile. Spock violently snatched his hand away and then gently tilted Jim’s face up toward his. In a pathetic act of defiance, Jim shut his eyes.

The strong, agile fingers left his chin to ghost softly over his temple, the shell of his ear, his eyebrow. Jim felt himself start to shake, a trembling moving up from his hands to shoulders to his whole body. Spock found the beginnings of a bruise on Jim’s stubbled jaw and pressed down. Jim went still.

“Look at me, Jim.”

He couldn’t do anything else. Jim’s vision immediately tunneled to take in nothing but Spock’s eyes, nearly black with desire… and something else. Not curiosity. Not pity. Not even love, exactly. Maybe something approaching understanding.

Unexpectedly, Spock bent to kiss Jim’s forehead, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips. The kiss was light, barely even there, but the two men breathed the same air, and in that long moment, it was enough.

Just as unexpectedly, Spock stood back up, eyes cold now but still full of desire. “Face the wall,” he ordered.

Jim didn’t have to think. He turned to the wall, cock hardening in anticipation.

The bed dipped as Spock knelt behind him and resumed his grip on the back of Jim’s neck. When he spoke, he did so in the same composed, authoritative voice he used make ensigns jump to attention. “Do not turn around. Your hands must remain at your sides until I say otherwise. If you do not comply, I will stop. If you speak without permission, I will stop.”

Jim’s heart skipped a beat, because Spock hadn’t even _started_ and he was already close to losing it. Spock’s hands clamped down on his shoulders, kneading the muscles there with a painfully deep grip. Jim felt something deep inside of him loosen just a little. From there, Spock’s hands slid down Jim’s arms, pushing them up until Jim’s palms were pressed to the wall.

“Keep them there.”

Spock ran his hands back up Jim’s arms, down his sides. Slowly. Deliberately. As if he was mapping Jim’s body by touch, memorizing each rib, each muscle. Jim felt Spock’s hot breath on the back of his neck as the Vulcan continued his tactile exploration, past narrow hips to corded thigh muscles. He was so close that Jim could feel the heat radiating from Spock’s body. In a moment of recklessness, Jim forgot himself and pushed back just so he could feel how hard Spock was, how much the other man wanted him.

As if Spock knew what Jim was thinking, he pulled back, took one hand from Jim’s thigh and brought it down hard on his ass. Jim’s choked gasp was loud in his own ears as he flinched away from the blow. It was no use; another blow fell, then another. Jim bit his lip hard to quiet a sob of indignity, pressed his forehead to the cool, smooth wall to offset the sudden, intense heat shooting up through him.

He tried to keep count, but after five or so it hardly mattered anymore. It wasn’t until Spock stopped that Jim realized he had started arching back _into_ the Vulcan’s hand. He expected Spock to admonish him, maybe even to get up and leave, so his knees nearly buckled when he felt Spock’s slender fingers wrap around his cock.

Lesson learned, Jim remained still under Spock’s grasp, though it nearly broke him to do so. Spock had to feel the tension thrumming through Jim’s body, the near pain of doing nothing, and finally relented by stroking Jim’s cock with a long slow pull that tore a keening noise from Jim’s throat.

Jim knew in a sort of abstract way Spock could be inhumanly patient, ignore his own body to attend to external matters, but Jim never gave him the opportunity for it in bed. The alternative was just too tempting – Jim counted each moan, each tremor, each gasp drawn reluctantly from Spock’s lips as a personal triumph.

But this… This was torture, pure and simple. Spock’s hand worked Jim in agonizingly slow, thorough strokes, pausing to circle his thumb around the head of Jim’s swollen cock. When Jim could no longer control his hips from rocking into Spock’s expert grip, the Vulcan circled Jim’s abdomen with his arm, pulling their bodies tightly together. The contact stung sharply against Jim’s raw flesh, but it was the feeling of Spock’s own arousal that drew a broken sob from Jim. Spock had to be _aching_ by now, but his hand never faltered in the punishingly lazy pace.

“What would you have me do?” Spock whispered into the juncture between Jim’s neck and his shoulder.

Jim gasped out what could have been “I—“ but he bit his lip just in time.

Jim could swear he felt the bastard _smile_ against the sensitized skin over his pulse point, but he knew he’d done well when Spock’s hand sped up and added a delicious, knee-weakening twist at the apex of each stroke. There was something that sounded disturbingly like pride in Spock’s voice. “You may speak now.”

Jim’s first several attempts at communication degraded into moans by the time they reached his lips, but he finally managed to stutter out “Anything. God, _anything_.”

Spock wasted no time biting deeply into Jim’s shoulder, tempering the pain by bringing his free hand to tease each of Jim’s nipples in turn. This left Jim’s hips free, and he couldn’t have stopped himself fucking into Spock’s grip if he’d tried.

When Spock restrained him again, he withdrew his hand from Jim’s throbbing erection and Jim nearly scraped gouges in the wall in an attempt to keep his own hands still. Mercifully, Spock didn’t keep him waiting. The Vulcan raised his fingers to Jim’s lips, and Jim sucked them eagerly into his mouth, tasting heat and the bitter salt of his own arousal.

This finally proved too much for Spock, who thrust hard against Jim’s backside and growled – fucking _growled_ – into Jim’s neck. Jim sucked hard, roughly running his tongue over the pads of the fingers in his mouth. As if in punishment for the loss of control, Spock responded by twisting one of Jim’s nipples hard before pulling both hands away. Jim whimpered at the loss of contact, then whimpered again as one hand clamped his hip with bruising force while the other spread him and probed at his entrance.

In response, Jim spread his thighs as far as he could, bracing his forearms against the wall and arching his back – no more pride, no more holding back, just _need_. He heard the hitch in Spock’s breathing as loud as a thunderclap in the quiet room, but Spock’s fingers were steady as they pressed in.

If Jim had had any expectations, Spock would have shattered them as he worked Jim open hard and fast, purposefully avoiding that one spot where Jim needed him most. Jim ground himself down on Spock’s wicked fingers but could not find the contact he craved. Spock gasped, “You must say—“

“ _Do it_ ,” Jim howled. “Please. Please just fuck me. Do it, ah—Fucking _fuck_ me already.”

The slow burn of Spock invading Jim’s body was too much too hot too _good_ for Jim to keep quiet. He writhed as best he could under Spock’s unyielding grip, wailing with abandon when Spock withdrew and plunged back into him.

Much to Jim’s ecstatic surprise, Spock fucked him hard and fast and deep, as though the long buildup had been just as torturous for the Vulcan as for his captain. Both his hands were on Jim’s hips now, angling his body just right for each thrust to hit _there oh god right there_. Jim’s arms, muscles tensed to push him back from the wall, were starting to shake and his teeth clashed together at every brutal thrust and it was unbearable and perfect and not enough all at the same time.

Jim’s words sounded broken, ridiculous and inadequate in his own ears. “Spock, you gotta— Fuck, I can’t— I need—“

Spock _knew_ – he wrapped one hand around Jim’s cock and stroked once, twice, and on the third Jim was gone, spiraling up and up and this had to be some kind of Vulcan sex magic thing because it just kept going, each pulse deeper and stronger than the last until Jim couldn’t tell the sounds he was making from the lights behind his eyes from the feeling of Spock racing up right behind him yet also somehow catching him as he fell.

It took a long, long time to come down, to settle back into his body, and Jim gradually realized he would be a boneless heap slouched against the wall if it weren’t for the strong arm around his waist, the solid body behind him. All he could do was let his head loll like a broken puppet and concentrate on the Vulcan heart pounding rapidly against his back.

Eventually, Jim regained enough motor function to support his own weight, and when Spock pulled back he knew he was going to be hurting come morning. He lowered himself slowly to the bed, not knowing if it was sweat or tears smearing his cheeks and not particularly caring.

Spock followed, lying down beside Jim and inspecting his captain’s body. Jim hissed when Spock’s fingers found the bite on his shoulder. When Jim mustered the capacity to raise his head, he found Spock’s gaze oddly tentative, uncharacteristically hesitant, a bit… green.

“Spock,” Jim rasped, “Are you _blushing_?”

“I— I cannot account for my physical condition after such strenuous—“

“You just manhandled me – your captain – spanked my ass, and fucked me into the wall and you’re blushing _now_?” Jim’s laughter was hoarse and joyful.

Spock shut him up with a kiss, slow and languid and deep, and Jim hadn’t realized until just that moment how much he had missed Spock’s mouth on his own. He willingly surrendered with a deeply content sigh, letting his first officer explore his mouth with the same tenacity as he did everything else.

&&&

The comfort barely lasted the night – the next day was one of the worst of Kirk’s life. Despite the protests of both McCoy and Uhura, he insisted on contacting the lieutenant’s family himself.

The viewscreen’s picture wavered a little as Jim conveyed his meager condolences to Meli’s parents. He sat helplessly as Mrs. Meli curled, sobbing, into her husband’s embrace.

“Just tell us this, son. Was there anything anyone could do?”

Jim faltered, hoped his trembling wasn’t visible across the lightyears the message traveled.

“No, sir.” A low voice came unexpectedly from the rear of the small room. The pointy-eared ninja had done it again, Jim thought. “Despite the fact that we received no warning of the impending conflict, the captain fought selflessly to protect your daughter. No man could have done more.”

Mr. Meli thanked him. After a perfunctory goodbye, Jim switched off the viewscreen but continued to stare at it blankly. He felt, rather than heard, his first officer come to his side. Spock’s eyes were unreadable, but the hand he laid on Jim’s shoulder was perfectly clear. His finger pressed lightly against the darkening bruise beneath the collar of Jim’s shirt.

Kirk let the pain flood his mind, then took a deep breath and let it go.


End file.
